"He knows the order," Krell says, his voice losing its humor. He takes a step forward, his hand on the hilt of his own broadsword. "The Master is waiting for his 'Lady Doll,' orc. He sent us to make sure you didn't... get confused. Give her to us. Go back to your post. We can forget this happened."
I look at Krell. I look at the elf I've sharedzhiskwith. The man I’ve fought beside. He is a killer. A slaver. He'sd-famfilth who bought his way into a mercenary’s life, and he thinks he can give me an order.
"She is not for him," I growl, my voice a low, tectonic rumble in the narrow hall.
Krell's grin vanishes. His eyes go flat and cold. "Don't be a fool, Tusk. She'shuman. She's a piece of meat with a pretty face. She's not worth theipiaPrivis pays."
He's right. She's not worth the coin. She's wortheverything.
I shove Aurora back toward the passage we came from, keeping my body between her and them. "Stay behind me."
"So that's it," Krell hisses. He draws his sword. "Traitor."
"She ismine," I roar.
I don't wait for them. I attack. This isn't a raid; it's a betrayal. I know how they fight. Krell is fast. Tamlin is a brute with the mace. Ghor is a coward who likes to flank.
I go for Tamlin first. He raises his mace, expecting me to meet it with my axe. I don't. I drop my shoulder and charge, smashing my tusk into his throat with all my weight behind it. He makes a wet, gurgling sound, his eyes wide with shock as his windpipe collapses. He drops.
Krell screams in rage, swinging his broadsword at my head. I duck, the wind of the blade hissing over my scalp. I don't use my axe. This is personal. I ram my fist into his gut, feeling his ribs crack. He folds, vomiting.
Ghor, the coward, tries to run. He turns to sprint back toward the main hall, to the alarm bell.
Ghor is running. "Tusk's gone mad! Traitor! To the bell!"
I can't let him.
I rip my axe from my back-sheath. I don't hesitate. Ihurlit. The sound of the heavy axe spinning end-over-end is a viciouswhooshin the narrow hall. It buries itself deep in Ghor's spinewith a wet, sickeningthunk. He drops like a sack of stones, his shout cut short.
But it's too late.
Another guard, one I hadn't seen, leans out from the main hall, his eyes wide with terror. He sees me. He sees Krell gurgling on the floor. He sees Ghor with my axe in his back.
He doesn't fight. He just screams and hammers the magical alarm rune on the wall.
The high, shrill,shriekof the estate's alarm begins to wail. A deafening, magical sound that means the gates are sealed. The entire garrison is awake.
Done. No going back. Ever.
I yank my axe free from Ghor's back. Krell is on the floor, conscious, clutching his broken ribs and staring at me with pure, unadulterated hatred.
I turn to Aurora. She is pale as bone, her small hand pressed to her mouth, but she hasn't screamed. She is a survivor.
There is no time. I grab her hand. Her skin is small and cold, instantly lost in my massive, bloody, calloused grip.
"We have to go.Now."
I don't wait for her to answer. I pull her, dragging her with me. Not toward the barracks exit—it'll be swarming. I go the other way, deeper into the servant's area, toward the main kitchens.
Behind us, I hear thethudof heavy guard boots on the marble. They're already on our trail.
We burst into the kitchens. The night-staff—a few human cooks and elven scullery maids—scream and scatter as I charge through, pulling Aurora behind me.
I ignore them. I head straight for the back wall, for the massive, thousand-pound stone pantry shelf, a relic from Lord Tull's time.
"Where are we going?" she gasps, stumbling to keep up with my ground-eating strides.
"Down."
